Atlantic City
by DeadPigeon
Summary: It's my version of "The Hangover" meets "Castle"! What happened at Ryan's bachelor party in Atlantic City? Find out inside!


**Atlantic City**

Castle woke up disoriented and shivering. It felt as if the hard flat surface that he lay on was  
trying to suck the warmth from his body. As he raised himself into sitting position he didn't  
know what hurt worse, the coldness in his toes that made them ache when he moved, or the  
pounding in his head as his brain protested against any movement whatsoever. Of course  
neither of those two things was of too much importance at the moment. He needed to figure  
out where he was. One thing he could tell right away…it was dark.

Squinting against the competing pains, he slowly turned his head to the right and then back to  
his left. Multiple specks of light and the low hum of machines began to clarify his surroundings.  
Slot machines. There were ten of them, massive blocks of metal, circuitry and blinking lights  
that were lined up against the far wall of a cavernous room. The combined blips of light emitted  
by these idling hulks was enough to illuminate about thirty tables and a hoard of chairs arranged  
in an arc just below him. Below him? He was elevated. His hands felt the surface he rested upon;  
not wood, not concrete either. It was smooth, more like plastic or glass. His eyes followed the  
smooth flat surface to a termination point ten feet to his left. He found the same view off to his  
right. Looking over his left shoulder, he followed the platform's length until it disappeared about  
twenty feet behind him where it was bisected by an inky black curtain. The dark fabric provided  
stark contrast to the succession of shiny slender objects that soared up from the surface of the  
platform and disappeared into the ceiling. They reflected back every twinkle and flash of light that  
managed to make the trip from across the room. They were three chrome poles. Three stripper poles!  
He was sleeping on a stage…on a stage in a strip club!

What the hell happened last night? He stood, or rather he tried to stand, but the sudden change in  
his blood pressure from sitting to standing made his head swim. His knees buckled and he found  
himself back where he had started…only this time he was lying face down. The mixed scent of stale  
beer, women and cheap perfume crawled up his nose from off the stage and sent him rolling onto  
his back. He let out a huge sigh when he found himself staring up at a large ceiling fan. He watched  
it oscillate for a moment until the downward push of air began to elicit goosebumps from his skin.  
He really needed to get down. Rolling back over, he pushed himself up to his hands and knees and  
crawled to the left side of the stage. He sat down, swung his legs over the edge and pushed off.  
The four foot drop to the floor wasn't that far, but the jar to his body made him painfully aware of  
something when he landed. He really needed to pee.

He'd been to enough bars and clubs in his life to easily locate the bathroom. He made a staggered  
bee line to the men's room and considered himself lucky when he stubbed his toe twice and still  
made it to his destination without falling. He pushed open the door; turned on the light, and blinked  
back against the stark fluorescence. God! What was it about the light in the men's room? Did they  
purposefully manufacture and install this particular harshness of light to cast shame upon the people  
that frequented these places, or was it just a normal light that was made harsh by excessive alcohol  
consumption and dilation of his eyes? Too much thinking and not enough peeing was going on, so he  
filed the thought away for future research.

Two loping steps propelled him forward to the nearest urinal and he grabbed hold of its handle for  
balance. It flushed in protest. He let go, wavered a moment, and then proceeded to unzip his fly.  
Only…he couldn't unzip. He wasn't wearing pants! What was he wearing? He looked down at the  
white material that ended at his knees. "_Wha?"_ Looking further down past his knees to his feet, he  
could see that he was wearing sandals. Why was he wearing sandals? Again with the questions! He  
was going to be peeing on himself soon if he didn't get down to business. He lifted up the knee  
length fabric and…where the hell was his underwear! By now he didn't care, he just needed to pee...  
and pee…and pee…and pee.

"Ahhhh!"

His sigh echoed through the empty stalls. When he finished, the relief he felt seemed to lessen the  
pounding in his head. Turning towards the bathroom mirror, he wanted to survey the damage, but  
at the same time he was afraid of what he would find. What he did find was Elvis staring back at him.  
Or more accurately, Elvis's hair and his own face. Whatever happened last night was not kind to him  
this morning. His face was puffy and the dark circles under both eyes gave him a raccoon like appearance.  
"_Great." _That solitary word, as it croaked through the cotton in his mouth and reverberated around the  
room, made him sound like a giant bullfrog. These changes to his face and voice were nothing compared  
to the changes to his wardrobe. He remembered wearing his Elvis costume last night…but this? He was  
wearing a white tunic that was belted at the waist and partially covered by a pseudo-gold plastic breastplate.  
The sandals he wore were laced up his calves and tied off at his knees. He was a Roman Elvis! When had  
he changed? _Damn! _He mentally cursed and slapped at his clothing, or lack thereof, looking in vain for all  
that he was missing. Where was his wallet? Where were his clothes? And where the hell was his dignity?

"I'm getting too old for this shit." he mumbled to himself as he leaned against the sink.

Twisting on the cold water faucet, he splashed his face. The water was bracing, but did nothing to jog his  
memory. He needed answers as much as he needed his clothes. He reached over and pulled a few stiff  
brown paper towels from the wall dispenser to his right. The coarseness of the paper as it fought with the  
stubble on his face reddened his cheeks more than it dried them. Frustrated, he balled up the papers, threw  
them at the trashcan ….and missed. He left the room as they hit the floor. He wasn't about to try and pick  
them up because that was one floor he really didn't want to wind up laying on. Back out in the darkened club,  
he looked around for any signs of life. Nothing was moving, so he called out.

"Hello! Anybody there?"

He waited, but there was no reply.

Maybe he could find his clothes and some answers out in his car. Hopefully it would be unlocked, because he  
had no idea where his keys were either. He headed towards a glowing red exit sign that he could see mounted  
high on the wall just to the left of the slot machines. A row of curved booths along the wall to his left guided  
him to the exit and gave him something to hold on when he felt himself swaying. He had three booths left to  
go before the exit when something caught him at the knees and impeded his progress. He almost fell forward,  
but his hand caught a hold of the booths circular table and he managed to push himself upright. He reached  
down and felt a pair of bare legs. They were men's legs, judging from the hair on them…or so he hoped. His  
eyes followed the legs to the rest of the body that lay supine on the booths vinyl seat. A jacket covered the  
man's torso and partially hid his face from view. Well, here was somebody, maybe he could get some answers  
out of this guy. He nudged the legs with his.

"Hey."

Nothing.

He nudged again. "Hey!"

Success this time, he could hear some indistinct mumbling.

One more time, "Hey buddy, wake up."

Something that sounded a lot like "_Go away" _came from beneath the jacket.

_Go away be damned! _He wanted answers and wasn't about to leave without them. He reached down and  
yanked the jacket off the guy. He quickly wished he hadn't. It was Ryan. Only, it was a little more of Ryan  
than he ever wanted to see. He was only wearing a Speedo…no wait, a Speedo usually covered things, and  
there was way too much of him hanging out of … _Shit! _It wasn't a Speedo, it was a stripper's thong, and the  
pair of tassels attached to Ryan's nipples only attested to that fact.

"_Go…away," _he mumbled again. Ryan's eyes never opened as his hands flailed around, possibly looking for  
the missing jacket. He tossed the jacket back down to cover his friend's "junk", and watched as Ryan reached  
down and pulled it up over his head…exposing himself again.

Castle plastered his hand to his eyes and moaned. He wondered what hurt worse...his head or his eyes. He  
kept his eyes covered long enough to sidestep Ryan's legs, and when he opened them again, he kept them  
focused on the exit sign ahead. _I just need to get outside. Everything will be better outside. _He kept repeating  
this mantra to himself as he headed towards the door. It got Dorothy out of Oz, so why shouldn't it get him  
out of this damn club? _I just need to get outside. Everything will be better outside. I just need to get outside.  
Everything will be better outside._

Luckily for him, when he reached the front door he found it unlocked. Unluckily for him…everything was not  
better outside.

His hand was at his eyes again, this time to shield them from the suns rays that glared at him from the  
horizon. He squinted in defense and took in his surroundings. There was a parking lot and little else. His  
Crown Vic was definitely nowhere to be seen. There was only one car left in the parking lot, and what a car!

Judging by the knobby tailfins and the angled browed headlights, it was a 1955 Cadillac Fleetwood, a pink  
Cadillac Fleetwood with a white roof and thick white sidewalls. It was Elvis' car! Well, maybe not the real  
one, he knew the real one was in the Elvis museum in Memphis, but it was an exact replica. It was a 5,000  
pound gas sucking behemoth on wheels._ No…no... no ...no… no…no! _ He shook his head as he walked towards  
the car. He was having a really bad feeling about this. The Caddy's windows were down, and what he found  
when he poked his head inside the car only confirmed his suspicions.

There on the front seat was his Elvis costume, and there in the back seat…was Elvez! Of the three of them,  
only Esposito had managed to keep his Elvis costume on, but he was sporting a new accessory to his outfit  
that Castle couldn't overlook. The tube top hugging, mini skirt wearing woman that was attached to the front  
of his jumpsuit was definitely not part of his original costume. It looked like Esposito was the only one that  
managed to get through whatever happened last night without too much embarrassment.

Waking the sleeping pair was the least of his worries as yanked open the passenger door. It popped and  
squealed with fifty-six years worth of protest, and as he dropped down onto the bright white bench seat,  
its springs squeaked out a coda from the two hundred and twenty pounds of pressure being exerted by  
his ass. "_Nice car my ass!" _He grumbled to himself as he dug around in his Elvis costume. Nothing.

"Dammit!"

His expletive garnered a response from the back seat.

"Yo, Castle. What's wrong?"

He looked back at Esposito, who was struggling to sit up with the woman still clinging to his chest. Other  
than being a little red eyed, he looked none the worse for wear from the previous evening.

"I can't find my wallet or my keys."

"Is that all?" Esposito smirked at him.

"Wadda ya mean…_Is that all_?"

Castle watched as Esposito pried the clingy woman from his chest and gently pushed her away. "Gimme a sec, baby."

The dark haired woman's mascara laden eyes glared at Castle as she sat back with a loud "humph" into  
the opposite coroner of the back seat. She made a display of crossing her arms and her legs. Her irritation  
at being disturbed was clearly visible by the way the bright red stiletto on her left foot began waggling up  
and down. Looking back to Esposito, he noticed that the detective had unzipped the front of his jumpsuit  
and was now digging around inside the waist of his costume. He thought he was going to have to cover his  
eyes again, but Esposito's hand soon popped back out…with his wallet.

"Here you go." Esposito tossed it over the front seat.

Castle caught the wallet and juggled it around in his hands for a few seconds, wondering if he really wanted  
to take hold of the warm wallet that was just down the front of another man's pants. He gave up on the  
juggling and just held it.

"What were you doing with my wallet?"

"You gave it to me."

"And why was it down your pants?"

Esposito shook his head, and executed what Castle considered a classic Beckett eye roll before replying.  
"It wasn't down my pants. It was in the money belt that you gave me yesterday. We agreed that one of  
us should be responsible for our ID's, money and car keys. I drew the short stick…remember?"

"You have my car keys?"

Esposito grabbed the back of the bench seat and pulled himself forward. "They're under the drivers seat."

Castle leaned over and reached under the seat. His first grab came up empty. He twisted his body more to  
the left and soon found his face in the driver's seat as his entire arm disappeared into the cavernous space  
below. He was so intent on retrieving his keys, he never noticed that every time he moved his arm his skirt  
was being pulled higher and higher up his ass, but Esposito noticed.

"Castle, what are you wearing? Or should I say, what aren't you wearing? Dude, could you cover that up?"

"Could you not look…I'm a little busy down here!" His voice was tinged with frustration.

It took few more blind slaps before his hand connected with the key ring. He sat back up and stared at the  
keys in his hand. They weren't his keys. His keys did not have a small pair of pink fuzzy dice attached to  
them. They were obviously the keys to the caddy. The bad feeling returned and settled into his stomach.

He dangled the keys from his index finger as he caught Esposito's eye. "These are _not_ my keys."

"Yes. They are. You won this car in a poker game at the hotel's casino last night. Don't you remember? The  
dude that owned this car ran out of money during the game, so you let him call the hand with the keys from  
his Caddy."

Castle looked back to the keys still dangling from his finger. "I guess this means I won?"

"Oh yeah, you won."

That was a relief. He leaned back into the seat, closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. For a minute there he  
was afraid he'd gone on some crazy spending spree and bought the car for some obscene amount of money.  
He hadn't done something that stupid in years. Of course, he hadn't done something _this_ stupid in years either.  
The need to self censure again was overwhelming. _Yep, you're definitely getting too old for this shit! _He rolled  
his head to the left and sought out answers to his next pressing question.

"Have you seen my clothes?"

Esposito ran his eye over Castles outfit. "Yeah. I was wondering about that. What are you wearing?"

It was correct reply to his poorly asked question, but it irritated him anyway. He turned and faced the detective.  
"What am I wearing…what am "_I"_ wearing?" He growled. "Who the hell were you wearing, is more like it?" He  
cut his eyes over to the unknown woman who was picking at her nail polish. She looked up and replied to his  
rant by scrunching up her face into a sarcastic looking smirk and bobbing her head in a way that silently yelled  
back at him..."_And just who the fuck are you?"_

"Hey!" Esposito jumped in to defend the ladies honor. "This here is…this here is…" And he was doing a poor job of it.  
The woman removed her death glare from Castle and cut her eyes to Esposito. He blurted out her name in a panic.  
"Dolores! This here is Dolores….yeah."

Only, it wasn't Dolores.

"Excuse me! The name's Dee Dee!"

They both watched as Dee Dee reached down and pulled up a bright orange tote bag from off the floor and set it in  
her lap. She dug around inside for a moment before pulling out a folded up piece of paper and thrusting it at Castles  
face. "Here!"

He reluctantly took the paper from her. He didn't want to ask, but he knew he had to. "What's this?"

"Mr. Moretti gave me a hundred bucks to make sure you got it."

"Moretti?" He exchanged a confused glace with Esposito. "Who's Moretti?"

"He's owns the club…well he use to own the club. You bought it from him last night. You said it was gonna be a  
wedding present for that little friend of yours."

"What!" It was hard to tell who yelled it louder, but their combined yell made Dee Dee throw her hands up to cover  
her ears. Esposito shot up and leaned halfway over the front seat to get a better look.

Castle hurriedly unfolded the paper. He took a second to take in what he was looking at, and then started mumbling  
aloud as he read the document.

"What's it say?" Esposito asked urgently.

Castle didn't acknowledge him; he just continued on reading and mumbling to himself.

Esposito reached out and bent down the side of the page so that he could see. "What's it say!" Castle replied by  
slapping his hand from the page.

Since he couldn't see and couldn't get an answer to his question Esposito folded his arms across the back of the front  
seat and waited. The thirty seconds he had to wait seemed like an eternity and when Castle let his hand holding the  
paper drop to his lap, he quietly asked him again.

"What did it say?"

"It says that Kevin Ryan is now the proprietor of The Pleasure Palace Nightclub."

"What? No way!"

"That's what this notarized document says. "Where the hell do you find a notary at…" He glanced down at the seal.  
"…at 2:15 in the morning?"

"How could you do this Castle?"

"I don't remember doing this!" He shook the paper in frustration.

They both continued talking at the same time, neither one of them even listening to what the other said.

"_I mean, damn dude…"_

I don't remember much of anything after the poker game…"

"_We've worked with you for what…four years…"_

"…I barley even remember the poker game!"

"…_and in all that time you never even bought us a coffee…"_

"I do remember us doing Jello shots with a group of Japanese tourists…"

"…_well, except for Beckett…"_

"….at the hotels Karaoke bar."

"…_but that's because you're sweet on her."_

"And then we had that impromptu Karaoke contest."

"_Does this mean I'm gonna have to get married before you'll buy be something cool?"_

"Who knew the Japanese were big Elvis fans?"

"_Not that owning a nightclub is cool…but if Internal Affairs hears about this…"_

"I still can't believe I lost…"

"_Kevin could be in some serious shit…"_

"…especially to…what was his name?"

"…_oh man, if Jenny finds out…he really will be in some serious shit!"_

A piercing whistle brought their "conversation" to a sudden end, and they both looked over at Dee Dee.  
The index finger of her right hand was making a small circular motion in the air between the two men.

"If I'm not needed for this…and I don't think I am…I'm gonna head back inside and use the ladies room if that's ok."

"I'm not stopping you." Castle blurted out.

Dee Dee glared at him again before popping opening the back door. She had one foot out the door before Esposito  
grabbed her arm.

"Hey, wait. I'm sorry things are kind messed up right now, but I just want to thank you before you go."

"Thank me for what?"

He gave her a smile. "For keeping me warm last night."

Castle looked away as Dee Dee leaned in to Esposito and proceeded to lick his tonsils with her tongue.  
They parted with a loud smack.

"You're welcome." She slid out of the seat, pulling the tote bag along with her. She closed the door and  
leaned back into the car.

"If you want to thank me some more…you know where to find me."

She headed back towards the club and Esposito picked up where he'd left off.

"Castle, you need to make this go away. Ryan is gonna be in the dog house if Jenny finds out."

He heard what Esposito was saying, but his focus was still on Dee Dee. She stopped just a little ways from  
the car and set her tote on the ground. There was something about that woman that annoyed him. He  
watched as she bent at the waist and began adjusting her fishnet stockings. First the right leg.

"Castle, this is serious. Internal affairs will have a field day with this."

She started at her right ankle, tugging and twisting at the stocking as she worked her way up her leg. What  
she did next made him blink twice. _That did not just happen! _She bent over again and started the same  
procedure on her left leg. Pulling and twisting.

"Castle, are you listening to me?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he grabbed Esposito jumpsuit with his left hand and pointed to Dee Dee with his right.

"Did you see what she did?"

Esposito looked out the windshield and watched Dee Dee as she fussed with her stocking.

"See what? She's fixing her pantyhose."

"Uh uh…not that…give her a second."

Dee Dee adjusted her stocking up to the top of her left thigh…and then she adjusted herself!

"That…that! Did you see that!"

Esposito made an attempt to explain it away. "It's the pantyhose…they're probably just bunched up at the crotch."

She jiggled her hips and walked in a small circle as if she was testing out how they felt.

"See I told you they were just…buuh…hhunnnn…"

The last words of Esposito's sentence disappeared the same time that Dee Dee's hand disappeared down the front  
of her miniskirt. Her slight squat and the little lift of her right leg put an end to any doubt.

"She's a he!" Castle blurted out as he shook Esposito by his jumpsuit. "Your girls a guy!"

Esposito reaction to Castle's ribbing was to punch the writer in the face. Not too hard, but enough to make him shut up and let go.

"Ooowwww! Javi…what the hell!

Castle rubbed his jaw and turned back to confront his friend. He found him slumped back into his seat and he looked  
… he looked…ok, as a writer he would never consider using such a clichéd phrase, but it was the only one that seemed  
to apply. He looked as white as ghost, and his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. It looked like  
he was about to…_Oh no!_

"Not in the car! Not in the car!"

Castle's plea went unheeded as Esposito lurched forward and threw up onto the floorboard of the back seat.

Castle groaned. _Aw hell!_ There way no way he was cleaning that up, and he sure as hell wasn't driving all the way  
back to New York in a puke mobile. He jangled the keys in his hands for a second. He really only had one option.  
_You can't lose what you never had. _He slid the keys into the ignition and made sure he had his bill of sale, his wallet,  
and his Elvis costume in hand before he exited the vehicle. He'd researched once where a car was stolen in the U.S.  
every 24.6 seconds, so it was just a matter of time before this problem solved itself.

There was now only one problem left. How to get rid of The Pleasure Palace? He walked to the front of the car and  
leaned up against the grill. He needed to weigh his options and to wait for Esposito to get his ass out of the car. He  
glanced back through the windshield. The smell in the car would defeat his embarrassment soon enough. He tossed  
his costume and wallet on to the hood of the car and spent the next few minutes thoroughly reading the bill of sale.

He still couldn't believe he let this happen. He'd learned a hard lesson soon after the success of his first Derrick Storm  
novel. He still owned that piece swampland in Florida. Yes, he Richard Castle, owned an actual piece of swampland in  
Florida. It was, of course, supposed to be a new condo development being built just outside Key Largo. He was such a  
huge Bogart fan that the mere mention of Key Largo had him hooked. He let his heart rule his head and he'd paid dearly  
for it. He cranked out his next two Storm novels in less than a year, and that just managed to get him back into the black.  
That was the lesson he learned. Never sign, date, stamp, approve, handshake or witness anything without a lawyer present.

He heard the Caddy's car door creak open and slam shut. Seconds later, Esposito joined him at the front of the car.

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Sorry about…you know…in the car."

Castle rubbed at his jaw. "Yeah…I'm sorry I teased you."

Esposito looked confused for a moment.

"What? Oh! You thought…no…no. No, I'm not sorry for that; you deserved that. I'm just sorry for puking in your car."

Castle laughed and put his hand on Esposito's shoulder. "You don't have to worry about it, any of it. Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks bro."

"That is…unless I need to blackmail you, and then all promises made without the presence of a lawyer are off."

Esposito looked confused again. "What are you talking about?"

Castle waved the bill of sale in the air. "Lawyers. They're what we need to make this go away."

"Do you have one?"

"Do I have one? No. Several…yes. And I know just the one who can fix this."

"Are you sure?"

A sly grin spread across Castle's face. "You never saw my police file did you?"

"Uh, no. You have a file? I pulled you up on the computer once and saw some traffic tickets and a few disorderly conducts,  
but that was all. I never knew you had a file."

Castle wondered just how long his file had been "missing" from the precinct, and did she still have it? He would have to ask  
her about it later.

"What were you ever charged with?"

"Let's see, felony theft, felony evading, indecent exposure, attempted murder of a police officer…"

"What! You gotta be kidding me!"

"No, that's how the arresting officer wrote it up. Of course the mounted patrol officer was rather embarrassed that I'd  
"borrowed" his horse for my naked joy ride through Central Park, so he felt the need to exaggerate the seriousness of  
the incident."

"You stole a police horse so you could take a naked joyride through Central Park?"

"No…no…I borrowed the horse, and it wasn't my idea in the first place. I had to do it; I lost a bet.

"You mean to tell me you almost became a felon, and went to prison, all because of a bet?"

"No, I almost became a felon because the horse got spooked, almost trampled the mounted officer, and then it bolted.  
I couldn't get it under control so I just held in for dear life and waited for the horse to tire out. My poker buddies had  
promised they would take care of me if anything happened, but the arresting officer refused to listen to reason and  
created such a flap that I almost did go to jail. It took one lawyer to do what two judges, a high ranking police official  
and the mayor couldn't."

"Damn Castle, anything else in your file you want to tell me about?"

"No, that was the worst, and the last…up until today."

So what do we do now?"

"Now, we go back to the hotel." Castle grabbed his Elvis costume off the hood of the car. "But first, I need to change."

They walked back to building and were almost at the front door when Castle spoke again.

"You don't happen to have my phone down your pants, do you?"

"No." Esposito laughed. "I think you put it in the jacket that Ryan wore to try and hide his costume. I still can't believe  
that pendejo tried to chicken out of his own bachelor party." They reached the front door. "Hey…where is…?" Esposito  
glanced over at Castle, and discovered that he was alone. He looked back and saw that Castle had stopped some ten  
feet behind him.

"Where is Ryan? Have you seen him?"

Castle had a hard time controlling the twisted grin that threatened to ruin what could possibly be an awesome finale  
to an otherwise forgettable debacle. He continued on the last few feet until he stood next to Esposito

"Yeah…you could say I've seen him. He's inside." Castle placed his hand on the door handle, but he had one last thing  
to say before he opened it.

"Javi, I just need you to know one thing before we go inside."

"What? What is it?" Castle's sudden seriousness had him worried.

"I need you to know that no matter what might have happened last night, and after everything that did happen  
this morning, and hell, no matter what happens next, I just need you to know one thing." He paused for effect.

"I'm blaming Ryan for everything."

That being said, Castle yanked open the door of the nightclub and shoved Esposito inside.


End file.
